


Could I breathe, please, one last time

by cc5



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Child Loss, F/M, it will make sense without it but you really should, please be mindful of the warnings because this has no happy end and you've been warned, read the other one first maybe, this is really unhappy ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 22:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cc5/pseuds/cc5
Summary: This family was everything she wanted, and never knew she could have. They were so very close, but life isn't fair.





	Could I breathe, please, one last time

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Clinging To The Ruin Of Your Broken Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13426683) by [cc5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cc5/pseuds/cc5). 



> Essentially Beth's POV of the last day of her life, please be mindful of the tags and be safe.

She was giddy, and nervous- so very nervous. But right now the excitement was winning.

 

Maggie had just left their house, returning to her own baby. Their lives had changed so much since the prison, improving a ridiculous amount. After daddy’s death, the group's separation, after Grady, she had almost lost her hope. In those dim hospital hallways, held against her will, she’d conceded to the fact that she would never see her family again. Might get out of this place, yes, she’d die trying, but finding Daryl, or Maggie? Impossible.

 

Until it was possible, and absolutely fateful, if you want to believe in such a thing.

 

It had taken her months, after. They had almost starved on the road, but while she was grateful to be with them again, she felt empty. Empty of hope and positivity. The only emotions she felt were anger and fear. Anger at everything that had happened, the choices she’d made, the things that were out of her control. Fear of losing them again. Of being alone again. Of being vulnerable again.

Fear of never being herself again.

 

Then, Alexandria. Pretty and clean, like Grady. Rules, like Grady. And not like Grady at all, but it didn’t matter. She resented the innocent, naive residents that had never seen the outside since the turn. Resented their notion of safety. Resented how some of her group were just willing to adapt immediately and seemingly without question. Surprisingly, she resented Father Gabriel, for all his sheer luck and blind faith, as it was hard to reconcile her own faith with the things she had witnessed and been through.

 

Of all people, Daryl managed to chip away at the walls she had built around herself. It seemed that he was the only one in tune with her to know when to give her space, physically and emotionally, and when to gently nudge her on. Took her out on runs when Alexandria became suffocating, but didn't treat her with kid gloves. Opened up to her about the Claimers, over a bottle of cheap scotch. Confessed how much he had missed her when she was gone. That he just couldn't give up on her.

 

After, his head was on her lap, he was exhausted from the emotional honesty. Letting her fingers run through his hair, she told him about the cops at Grady. About the way they had run things. About Gorman and sour apple lollipops and his assault. About how she'd killed him and that she didn't regret it at all. That her nightmares were about his fingers digging into her flesh, not about her knocking his head in so hard it curved inwards.

 

Daryl had cried for her, with her, then. They didn’t speak of it after, but the knowledge lingered. Slowly, she started to trust again, to blossom again. And their relationship blossomed as well. Gentle as a summer breeze, and there was no rush as all. Small touches turned into holding hands, into lingering hugs, into shy kisses. Alexandria became home. People like Aaron and Denise became close friends. They gained allies, and lost loved ones, but after a harsh, cold winter, the summer was oh so sweet, and they were looking forward to a generous fall harvest.

 

It didn’t take Beth long to know she was pregnant. They had been careful, she thought, but looking at the test strip she couldn’t help the blooming feeling of utter happiness.

 

She’d always wanted to be a mom, felt that she already was in a way to Judith, but knowing that there was life growing inside of her filled her with unadulterated joy. Tomorrow she would start to worry, the undead were still roaming the earth after all, and people like the Governor and Negan still existed. But now she was sitting on the stairs across the front door, waiting for Daryl to return home from his chores. Her bare feet felt nice and cool on the hardwood floor, despite the sticky air in the front room.

 

* * *

 

“You sure?” It was hard to read his face, but his voice was not unkind or incredulous.

 

“Course I’m sure.”

 

“You’re happy?” Searching her eyes, stepping closer, and she could see his hands shaking the tiniest bit.

 

“Course I am.”

 

Reaching for his hand and pulling him closer.

 

“Course I am happy with you. With us.”

 

* * *

 

The first flutter turned into the first small kick and the smile on Daryl’s face was worth every bit of morning sickness she had had to suffer through. Morning sickness, a misnomer- more like all day queasiness. Maggie had laughed and baked her flatbread with salt to eat when they could only find saltines that tasted flat. Told her it would pass. Eighteen weeks in, the sickness had passed, to be replaced by heartburn. And now, the unmistakable feeling of their baby moving.

 

She wasn’t allowed to leave Alexandria anymore. It was annoying, but she understood. Didn’t like to be coddled but at this rate, she was fine to pick her battles. There was a lot to do in the zone for her still, so at least she wouldn’t suffer from boredom. As her belly grew, the more excited everyone seemed to become, a baby in times like these being a source of joy and hope for the future, making the dangers appear smaller. Which was a trick of course, not the truth, but nonetheless Beth allowed herself this window of happiness, of safety. For the rest of her life she’d worry about raising her child right and keeping him or her safe, so the least she could do was to not let anxiety win during those precious months of her belly growing with the child she never expected to already love so much.

 

* * *

 

“What about Milo?”

 

“Hmm… why?”

 

“‘Cause it’s a nice name? C’mon, Daryl. I cannot be the only one comin’ up with names, and “peanut” isn’t gonna cut it forever.” She nudged him in the ribs playfully.

 

“Nothin’ wrong with peanut…” He nudged her back gently. The sun was setting with a bright orange, and they enjoyed a moment of peace before his night shift would start.

 

“Ain’t even the size of a peanut anymore! More like a flippin’ watermelon!”

 

“‘s that about as close as you get to cussing, huh, Greene?”

 

“Stop teasing me… the baby might hear.”

 

“The baby don’t understand English yet-”

 

“Babies retain words early on! I read that in a book once. Y’know. Before the turn.” She was thinking back to her babysitting days, then to Judith as a newborn. It was a miracle her first word hadn’t been “ass-kicker”.

 

“Beth, I promise to raise our kid with the best of Southern manners, if it makes you happy.” He was earnest about it, too.

 

She beamed up at him. “It would.”

 

“And I’ll also teach them how to gut a raccoon-”

 

“Daryl!” The mere thought of her toddler elbow deep in raccoon guts made her queasy.

 

He laughed at her, wholeheartedly. “Should see your face. Imagine how much fun it’d be to play with still warm intestines-”

 

“Gross! You stop this right now Daryl Dixon!” But by now she started to laugh with him. Their child was so lucky already, she thought. His survival skills would make all the difference in raising a child in this world, and she would make sure that books, poetry and song would enrich that life as well.

 

* * *

 

Braxton-Hicks contractions sucked. Not because they hurt, but because they startled her into thinking _this is it_ when it wasn’t. Together with the severe pelvic pain of the last couple of days, she was fed up. Denise kept telling her to be patient, that the baby would come when it was ready, but it was hard to just sit and wait. Her feet were swollen, she felt unbalanced with her belly being so huge and she couldn’t tend to her chores in the garden anymore. Just last week a huge herd had come close to the zone, too close to everyone’s liking, and she wanted the baby out fast. So she could recover, could run if needed, even though a newborn was a risk in itself. Hopefully her child would not be a crier, and easy to calm. She felt hopeful to be able to breastfeed, but just in case her boys had scavenged for formula. And they had a goat, traded from the Kingdom.

 

“Time to meet you, little bug.” She rubbed her tummy thoughtfully, watching the kick and roll of her baby. It was still freaky to see so much movement, Aaron had felt and seen it once and seemingly still not recovered from the experience. She loved him all the more for it, and Eric wouldn’t let him live it down, either.

 

* * *

 

Her water broke in the middle of night. The following afternoon she was already hours in active labour, but Denise told her it wasn’t yet time to push. Her cervix had only opened slightly, and the lack of pain management left her slowly weakened. Daryl wouldn’t leave her side, didn’t complain about her tight grip around his fingers. Whispered into her ear how strong she was, how beautiful, how excited he was for the baby. That she was doing so good, just a little longer, she could do it.

 

He spoke more to her in these hours than she’d ever heard him talk, his voice confident and passionate and she just had to believe him. He believed in her, and no matter how tired she got, she’d make it through, and on the other end was the reward of finally meeting her child.

 

“I don’t feel right, Daryl,” she confessed. Only when his voice started to waver and break did she know that things truly weren’t right at all.

 

Denise kept going to her books, Tara kept taking her blood pressure and pulse, and Daryl locked eyes with her. He was sweating but she was growing cold and maybe she’d been naive. Naive to think that _this_ was the easiest part of having a baby in this world, as birth is natural, and just because Lori died… panic rising, suddenly, a wave crashing over her and her shakes intensifying. Because this was supposed to be a beginning, not an end, and she didn’t deserve this. _He_ didn’t deserve this, and she would be all right, had to be, because she would be a mommy and mommies have to be there for their babies and she couldn’t die, had survived so much already. Even a bullet gracing her scalp and that was not all luck, luck could run out but not skill, her body was strong and she was so cold, so weak, and _mommy, daddy, I need you, mommy what do I do?_

 

“It’s time, you will meet her soon.” Flashing the brightest smile through her tears she could muster, because that much would be true. Suddenly she was sure the baby was a girl, and that made her so happy. Until the next contraction hit, and then there was talk about the baby being stuck, and she knew then it was over. Her journey would end on this bed, in this house, in this hour. _Why, oh God, why,_ but there was no answer. And mommy wasn’t there to tell her what to do and her daddy wasn’t there to fix it and neither could Daryl.

 

Cold, so cold, and she knew they’d gut her, like they had gutted Lori and gutted their dinners and gutted walkers to hide among them, but her blood was still warm even though she was cold and grew tired, so tired.

 

“I love you,” she whispered, “I love you both so much.” Shaking so hard her teeth clattered.

Daryl kissed her face over and over, his lips so warm and for a moment she thought she might all right after all. She was safe. Her baby was safe.

 

No, no safety, it was a lie and it had been a lie all along, but she would see her parents again, and Shawn, and everyone else she’d loved and lost and _there must be a heaven because what would be the point of all this suffering if not?_

 

And her baby, her beautiful baby would be with her beautiful man and _mommy, I’m so cold, daddy, I miss you so much…_

 

Everything was slowing down, and growing darker, and Daryl was so far away now, _inhale, exhale,_ but the pain was less, _tired, so tired,_ is this the end? She wasn’t ready, not yet, just a bit longer, please, _God, please,_ and she was floating, _inhale, exhale, inhale… exhale._

  


**Author's Note:**

> Did you make it through this? I apologize. <3
> 
> Some of the way I wrote the ending is inspired but Robert Cormier's After The First Death.


End file.
